


Teamwork

by ladyarcherfan3



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Horses, equestrian AU, team penning and sorting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5750389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyarcherfan3/pseuds/ladyarcherfan3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new rider joins the regular teams at Citadel Arena, and it goes better than anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teamwork

“Team Work”

 

It was cold enough that the breath from the horses and cattle rose in little puffs of vapor, but the horses still worked up a sweat. Basically, it was comfortable riding conditions in the sorting pen at Citadel Arena, and Furiosa was grateful for access to an arena that ran practices and competitions year round. It kept her horse in shape and kept her sane.  Her day job was decent enough, but she wouldn’t say it was stimulating.  Ranch sorting and team penning made her think and got her on a horse with a purpose, and the company was usually good, so she looked forward to the weekly practices.  

 

The company was rather smaller than usual, however.  Her other teammates - Toast, Capable, Cheedo and Dag - were all present and accounted for, sitting on their horses and chatting while they waited for their turn to sort.  All of them were smart and strong riders, and they worked together well.  There were four members from the War Boys as well.  They were a bit of a contrast to the usual western hats and flannel look that happened, with skull motifs decorating headstalls and saddles, but they were decent at the sport, if rough.  Furiosa, given the chance, would ride with them to make sure the other girls didn’t have to risk getting slammed into by an overenthusiastic horse and rider pair.  

 

With a blast of chilly air, the door to the arena opened, and Furiosa twisted in her saddle, hoping to see some other familiar faces.  But the man and horse that entered were complete strangers; she hadn’t even seen them at any competitions throughout the year.  The horse was a good solid Quarter Horse, black and a bit fuzzy with a winter coat.  But he was short, stocky and well built, and certainly seemed interested in the cattle and was relaxed.  His head was up and ears pricked as he watched the cattle at the far end of the pen, but stood still.  The saddle looked old but in good shape, probably custom made.    

By contrast, the man looked completely nervous, sticking close to his horse like a security blanket, shoulders hunched inside his leather jacket.  He moved around the horse, checking and rechecking tack, while shooting quick glances at the sorting pens, eyes flicking between the riders and the tiny crowd waiting near the gate.  His fingers flexed around the reins he clutched and she saw him swallow hard.  She didn’t blame him.  Watching Nux and Slit sorting was always a bit intense for people who didn’t know them.  Even at practice, they were hard core, shouting and whooping at the cattle, throwing insults at each other, whipping their horses into hard and fast roll backs and tight spins.  It would be intimidating.  For a moment, he shuffled closer to the door, every line in his body tense, as if ready to break for freedom at the least warning.  She had to bite back a laugh when he nearly jumped out of his skin when Angharad suddenly appeared next to him.

 

“Sorry!” Angharad said quickly, and he collected himself, nodding.  “Welcome to Citadel Arena.  We just have to have you sign the waiver and pay the fee - twenty dollars per rider, for the evening.”  She held out a clipboard and pen. 

 

Furiosa turned her attention back to the teams, as Slit and Nux were resetting the herd and Dag and Cheedo were riding into the pen.  Angharad had been on their team until her pregnancy had put her on hiatus; now she helped Miss Giddy run and organize competitions and practice.  Her break had opened a spot for Cheedo, who was still new to the sport.  What they were going to do once Angharad was ready to ride again, they hadn’t discussed, but Furiosa figured she could always tack herself onto the War Boys or the Vuvalini team if needed.  As long as she had someone to ride with, she was satisfied.  

 

“Cattle are set, ride in girls, go get number three.”  Miss Giddy’s voice echoed through the arena, where she oversaw practice from the judge’s stand, with her microphone, timer and music mix.  “And remember, it’s practice.  No need to go wild.”  

 

Her comment and gaze was focused on Slit and Nux, who were jostling out of the gate and towards the rest of their team again.  Only Nux had the good grace to look chagrined; Slit was more focused on side passing his horse, Razor, towards the cooler full of beer on the bleachers. 

 

Furiosa shook her head and sent War Rig jogging to the side of the pens away from the others so she could help coach Cheedo.  The new rider saw her coming and scooted away, leaving more than enough room between them as he slowly warmed up his horse.       

 

“Go to his head, Cheedo!” Dag called.  “Push him around!”  

 

Nodding, Cheedo shifted the path Pep was taking and made the steer turn to the left, away from the rest of the little herd.  Once free of the congestion, she urged Pep into a lope and sent the steer sprinting towards the open half of the pen, following close behind.  

 

Dag sent her horse Sprout dancing out of the way and towards the herd.  “Watch number seven, he’s been squirrely all evening!”  She went for number four. 

 

As predicted, number seven darted out of the herd and ran towards the open half and Cheedo.  

“Get in front of him, don’t wait!” Furiosa called out over the War Boys’ chatter and the music.  

 

Cheedo and Pep jumped to the left and forward toward number seven and sent him twisting away from the opening and back to the herd.  Dag and Sprout pushed four in right behind them and then took up guard position.

 

“Five’s white faced, in the back corner,”  Furiosa prompted.  

 

The rest of the sort went smoothly, if rather slower than what would be ideal for competition speed.  The theory behind the sport was rather simple - take a herd of cattle numbered zero through nine, and move them individually from the herd and into the open half of the sorting pen in numerical number.  In reality, it was far more difficult to master.  Both the cattle and the horses had minds of their own, and it was easy to let a wrong numbered steer through, and to keep the time under ninety seconds.  

 

Furiosa met the girls at the gate and rode back to the waiting area with them as they traded places with Capable and Toast.  “Well done.  That was a good sort.  All in order and you two were communicating.”  

 

Dag waved a hand airily, dismissing the compliment, but Cheedo flushed with pleasure, before a scowl twisted her face.  “We could have been faster.  That time wouldn’t have counted.”  

 

“It’s practice.  Focus on speeding up the next round, but you always have to do a clean run, or your times don’t count at all.”

 

Miss Giddy’s voice rang out of the speakers again. “We’ve got two rides left on this herd, and then we’ll clear the arena for some warm up time.”  

 

The new rider nodded and lifted a hand in acknowledgement, where he was trotting up and down the far end of the arena fence.

 

“Hey, Furi, you wanna beer?”  Ace lifted a can and held it out to her.  

 

“No, I’m good.  Some of us have to work early in the morning.”  

 

“Hah, as if the rest of us don’t?”  He turned his horse with a touch of the rein and spur and joined her away from the rest of his team.  

 

“You’re retired, old man,” she teased. 

 

He snorted and cracked the beer.  “Babysitting grandkids ain’t no retirement, I’ll tell you.  I’m more exhausted now at the end of the day then when I was trucking.  And back then I didn’t have to worry about arguing with a two year old about what to name my new cow horse.”  

 

Furiosa glanced down at his palomino mare that had been dubbed Shiny by the aforementioned granddaughter.  She snorted and grinned.  “Serves you right, buying gold like that.”  

 

“I was always taught to look at conformation and bloodlines, not color,” he said loftily and took a swig of beer.  

 

Morsov joined them then.  Of the War Boys, she got along with Ace and Morsov the best.  

 

“Furiosa, you wanna take this next turn with me?  Unless you are going to put your beer down, old man,” he added to Ace.  

 

“Get on with you,” Ace groused and swung one leg over to hook on the saddle horn, clearly not riding anytime soon.  

 

Furiosa jerked her chin at the gate and sent War Rig forward.  Next to her black mare, who was a Quarter Horse / Percheron cross, Morsov’s silver dapple gelding, Chrome, looked tiny.  But he was cowy as anything and fast.  War Rig was slower, but she was intimidating and surprisingly agile.  

 

“Cattle are set.”  

 

Toast and Capable blew past them and went for the gate. 

 

“Riders in, and you’re looking for number eight.”  

 

Morsov and Chrome zoomed out and went for the steer.  Number two tried to dart part Furiosa, but War Rig lunged forward, ears back and teeth snapping and sent it back.  As soon as number eight went into the open half, and Furiosa urged War Rig towards the herd.  

 

They did a decent run, but right at the end, number six and seven ran through in the wrong order as Morsov pushed them.  

 

“Mediocre, Morsov!” Slit bellowed from the sidelines. 

 

“Bite me, asshole!” he called back. 

 

Slit kicked Razor into motion, the horse snorting and leaping forward.  “Come on Nux, let’s show him how it’s done.”  

 

“Cattle change, and warm up,” Miss Giddy reminded them.  

 

“Fine, but we get first round, then!”  

 

She just waved at them and pointed at the cattle.  Furiosa and Morsov herded their bunch back into the holding pen without too much trouble.  Once the cattle were in, Angharad appeared at the main gate and swung it open.  The girls all darted in, wanting to use the opportunity to school and ride without cattle.  The new rider followed in more slowly, and chose to stick to the second half of the arena to work his horse.  

 

Furiosa got War Rig going too, playing with extension and collection of her trot and then her canter, and doing as much lateral work as she could in the relatively small pen with multiple riders.  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the new guy.  His gelding moved out soft and easy, setting his head with very little bit pressure.  As he rode, the tension in the man’s shoulders eased and he sat up straighter.  

 

Furiosa nodded to herself.  He clearly didn’t ride with the hunch backed posture that almost everyone in the sport did; his stirrups were longer too. Even with the way one tended to lean forward and hunch to move with the horse through tight turns and spins, she could never shake the equitation posture and long stirrup length that had been drilled into her during her college show years.  So it always made her feel good to see someone else ride with “decent posture”.  

 

He spun the black gelding easily and trotted in the opposite direction.  That was when Furiosa noticed the knee brace.  That might explain the long stirrups more than an equitation background.  

 

“Hey Furi!”  Toast swung her bay gelding Trigger over towards them.  “Are any of the Vuvalini team coming tonight?” 

 

“Val text me and said she was down with the flu, and Keep said she and Maadie were too old to want to deal with the cold to come out tonight, not when they can do dry work at their own little arena.”  

 

“What about Smithy and Melita?”    

 

“I doubt it, by this point.” 

 

Toast heaved an exaggerated sigh.  “I was hoping we’d have a few more options than War Boys to practice with tonight.”  

 

“I know. But at least we’re all here.  See if you can separate Dag and Cheedo and ride with them.”

 

“Yeah, wish me luck with that.”  Toast squeaked a kiss and Trigger stepped into a canter.  

 

Furiosa’s attention was caught by the new rider again as he worked his gelding through a series of roll backs.  He cued the horse into a trot, went to nearly to the end of the arena, stopped and in the same second, barely touched the gelding, who sat back on his haunches, lifted up his front end, pivoted and sprang back into the trot without hesitation.  On dry work at least, she had to admit the pair was pretty impressive.  How they’d be on cattle was another thing all together. 

 

“All right, let’s clear the arena.  Get the next herd of cattle in and two riders ready to go,” Miss Giddy said. 

 

Capable stopped her red sorrel mare next to the second pen of cattle.  “I’ll take Fire in to push them out, Furiosa, if you handle the gate.”  

 

“I got the gate, go on.” 

 

She and Capable got the cattle out and set, while Slit and Nux were already raising a ruckus down at the opposite end.  

“Cattle are set.  Riders go.  Looking for number nine.” 

 

Once out of the gate, Furiosa walked War Rig over to the new rider, who was watching the War Boys sort with a pensive look on his face.  He blinked and straightened as she stopped next to him.  

 

“You wanna take the next round?” she asked.

 

“Mm.  No, I’m good.”

 

She struggled to keep her face neutral, automatically twitching her left hand, the struggle between keeping the metal hand exposed or covering it up waging in her head again.  But any annoyance she might felt dissolved at she took in his expression.  He looked ready to either jump off his horse and run, or spin the gelding and just bust through the door by force.  And he wasn’t even looking at her hand.  She shrugged one shoulder.

 

“Up to you.  But I’m not sure why you paid the fee if you didn’t want to chase cattle.”  

 

“It’s, mm, been a while.”  His voice was hoarse, as if it’d been awhile since he’d carried a full conversation.

 

“We can take it slow.  I’m a coach.  It’s just practice.” 

 

In the pen, Nux and Slit were sending out the last of the cattle.  The new guy watched them for a moment longer then nodded and looked up to meet Furiosa’s eyes.  

 

“Yeah.  Let’s go.” 

 

They rode into the pen as the War Boys reset the cattle and it was like an electric charge ran through the man and his horse.  They were both instantly focused, the horse settling his weight onto his haunches, ears pricked forward; the man deep in the saddle, upper body just a little forward as he waited for the signal.  

 

“You can go in first.  I’ll watch the hole,” Furiosa said, her own focus going to the cattle.  

 

“Mm.”

 

“Riders, go.  Number four.” 

 

The black gelding sprang forward into a canter immediately, and they cut immediately for number four, hiding in the back corner behind several other steers.  Furiosa and War Rig dodged at an attempted escapee, and then swung back out as number four sprinted past.  

 

“Five’s in the middle front,” he said as he spun the gelding into position. 

 

Furiosa was already cantering War Rig forward. 

 

They fell into sync without thought, trading in and out, shouting quick orders back and forth as the cattle were sent out, in perfect order.  For that minute, Furiosa thrilled with the adrenaline of the chase, with the rush of a partner who reacted with her, whose strengths met her weaknesses and made for effortless teamwork.

 

She’d never had that type of connection even after working with Toast and Angharad - who she worked the best with - for several years.  It was stunning.    

 

Number three crossed the line, and Furiosa and the man crossed just behind, both panting a little and grinning.  

 

“Well,” Miss Giddy said.  “I know it’s practice and the times don’t count, but that was a perfect sort in 35.57 seconds.  That kind of time could easily get you a buckle.” 

 

The girls were whooping and cheering, Ace, Morsov and Nux clapping, while Slit looked on, pissed off.                

 

“I have never had such a clean sort, at practice or otherwise,” Furiosa said.  “If you want to ride together again, any time, I’d be for it.” 

 

The man’s expression changed to something a bit guarded, the flush of success disappearing.  “Yeah?” 

 

She nodded and stuck out her hand.  “Yeah.  Just ask for Furiosa if you don’t spot me right away.”

 

He took her hand, nodding.  “Max.”  

 

They both sat for several seconds, grins starting on their faces, until Miss Giddy interrupted them. 

  
“Please reset the cattle and let another team have a chance, please.”  

**Author's Note:**

> I am new to the sport of team penning and sorting, so if any details are off, it's my own fault and probable confusion; but I tried to stay away from how the point system works, and just focused on practice, as that's about all I've done so far. I also had far too much fun giving all their horses their names. Shiny and Chrome, and Razor (Cola) y'all. (Max's black horse is of course called Interceptor. Mostly he just calls him Boy.)


End file.
